Who are you?
by Laiagarien
Summary: Set just after the defeat of Voldemort. Please readreview! Disclaimer: of course I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter. Everything you recognise is J.K. Rowlings


_Who are you? _

_Who are you, Severus Snape? This is a question that has haunted me for some time. I pondered over it during the night, while the others were vast asleep. I pondered over it while reading books, not taking in a letter of the texts. I pondered over it while in classes. Especially, of course, during Potions. _

_Who are you, Severus Snape? Are you just our Potions Master? What makes you hate Gryffindors so much? Why can't we ever do something right? Even if, as mostly, my Potions are correct, you are always able to find some minor fault. Even if you don't, you just ignore my potion, continuing to abuse the other Gryffindors, my housemates. _

_Who are you, Severus Snape? What made you turn to Voldemort? I dare speak his name now, you know. Voldemort. I know you turned to him, I saw your mark. Do you remember, when Harry had got out of the Triwizard Maze, alive, having witnessed what no child should even have to see? You showed it to Fudge, and I saw it too. What made you turn to him? Were it your parents, who made you join him? Were you in search of riches? Knowledge? Power? Were you bitter, angry, sad?_

_Who are you, Severus Snape? Why did you turn back? Why go and see Dumbledore, offer to spy for us, for the Light? With the risk of getting thrown into Azkaban, or be killed on the spot. What did you do to make Dumbledore trust you? Of course, Dumbledore trusts nearly everyone and is nearly always right. I wonder how he does that, Dumbledore. _

_Who are you, Severus Snape? Are you the bastard, the greasy git, like Ron always used to call you? You must know he, and countless others, used to call you that. As did your own schoolmates. I know they did, Harry told me what he saw in your pensieve. He didn't want to tell, I had to force it out of him. Maybe it would make you feel good, to know he felt really bad about what he had seen. He felt responsible, you know, for the character of his father. _

_Who are you, Severus Snape? What is behind that twelve-foot wall of sneers and striding through the castle? Do you love? Have you loved? Ironic, how people are afraid of saying things. They postpone it, until it is too late and can never be said._

_Who are you, Severus Snape? What made you leap in front of the green flash of light, intended to kill Harry? You saved his life. Again. He became insurmountable, Harry. I think seeing you lifeless made him summon enough magic to kill Voldemort, once and for all, like Voldemort killed you. Not swiftly, perhaps even painlessly, like the curse intended for Harry, but slowly, painfully, like Voldemort had killed you before, during long years of torment. Were you tired of life? _

_I loved you, Severus Snape. I only want to know whom I loved. _

She got up and walked towards the fireplace. Tears wetted her cheeks and chin. She tended the fire until it blazed high. Satisfied, she rolled up the piece of parchment, blotted by her tears, and threw it in the fire. 

The writing had drained her. She fell down in one of her low chairs by the fireside, letting her tears flow freely. So she sat for minutes, maybe hours, not counting time. The fire was burning low now. Suddenly a head appeared in the flames, blurred by her tears. Without the long beard, it was difficult to recognise Albus Dumbledore, but she did. She blinked, but the head did not go away. It spoke.

"Hermione," she flinched at the use of her given name, not something she was used to at Hogwarts. She had hoped he would call her that, once he had woken up, when she ran towards him during battle. Paying no heed to the danger for her own life, she had rushed towards the lifeless form of her Professor. They had stopped her, indeed. Hagrid had had to lift her off her feet to prevent her from running straight into Harry's crucio. Now, she wondered whether the Cruciatus Curse wouldn't be better than this. The Headmaster's head had disappeared from the fire. Good. She wanted to be alone and think. Or not think at all…

"Hermione," she heard again, but from behind this time. Too tired to look up, she merely nodded. Her head felt heavy and she dropped it, but as she did so two hands caught it. 

"Come, child. You need to lie down. Let me take you to the Hospital Wing, where I am sure Poppy will have a nice Dreamless Sleep Potion ready for you to take." She managed to shake her head. The Hospital Wing, that was were she had last seen him, after he had been brought there on a conjured stretcher. Many of them had been wounded, put onto magical stretchers. Many had been brought to the Hospital Wing, Ron and Harry among them, but she had only seen one. A Dreamless Sleep Potion. He would have made it, as he did with all the potions Madam Pomfrey needed. 

She just wanted to indulge in self-pity and self-blaming. Hadn't they treated him awfully, all those years? She had seen that from the beginning, but at first hadn't given it a second thought. Of course, they thought he had been after the Stone, back then. Later, when she knew he had been played tricks on even when at Hogwarts', and by Harry's godfather, she had tried to defend him a little. Of course, her only reward had been the teeth accident. Then she had learned he had been a Death Eater turned spy, and she could only imagine what a strain that must be. He had returned there, knowing what he would have to endure. On the behalf of the Light, he had risked his life and in the end sacrificed himself. 

She felt herself being lifted and shook her head again, but the motion continued. Not able to gather the energy to protest, she closed her eyes and endured it.

When she woke up again, she was in the Hospital Wing. Still half asleep, she tried to remember what had happened. She recalled having written a letter and being moved. The Hospital Wing was full and almost dark. More beds than usual were separated by floor-length curtains and people moved around them silently, tending to the patients. She didn't belong here, she wasn't ill or injured. She sat up, but was restrained by the gentle hands of Madam Pomfrey. 

"Did you sleep well, child?" she asked. Hermione nodded and continued her silent struggle to get out of the bed. 

"Oh no, you will remain here. Drink this. It's hot chocolate, will warm you up inside. And lie down, unless you want me to tie you to your bed," she said in a gentle but firm whisper. Knowing it was useless to object, Hermione took the mug of hot chocolate and folded her fingers around it. She allowed the warmth to creep up from her hands to her arms and shivered. 

"That's better," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now, drink that while I'm gone, I'll check up on you in a couple of minutes." Again, Hermione nodded, glad not to have to speak. She took a sip of her chocolate, when she heard a voice speak her name. It was Albus Dumbledore, again. She was on the verge of replying, when she heard the rest he was saying. 

"…from Hermione, I believe. I recognise her tiny writing. Listen, Severus." No reply, of course. He would never reply again, would he? Like the day before, tears grew in her eyes. 

"Who are you, Severus Snape? This is a question that has haunted me for some time. I have pondered over it during the night, when the others were vast asleep. I have pondered over it while reading books, not taking in a letter of the texts. I pondered over it while in classes. Especially, of course, during Potions." 

The words washed over her, until their familiarity struck her. She spilled her hot chocolate, but did not feel it burn. In horror, she listened to the voice of Albus Dumbledore, reading the letter she had burned yesterday night. Not able to speak properly, she couldn't stop him. She could only hope all the other patients were asleep. 

Why was Dumbledore reading it aloud, though? Severus would never answer anymore, nor would he know what was in the letter. He would never know, because she had been stupid enough to think she could tell him later. And now there was no later, not for him. For them. She doubted she could live without his presence, albeit lingering in the distance. 

"I loved you, Severus Snape. I only want to know whom I loved." She heard Dumbledore finishing her letter, her letter to the remembrance of Severus Snape. Then the curtains around her bed slit open to reveal Albus Dumbledore, sitting next to the bed of her Potions Master, who turned his head towards her. A tear slit down from the corner of his eye. 


End file.
